More Than One
by NothingBlahNB
Summary: A collection of one shots that consist mainly on a humanized, male Nomicon and Randy!
1. Selfie

**Warning: Parental Guidance is advised is if you are below the age of 13 or not mature enough. The following story contains BL (boy x boy), dirty jokes and stupidity that surfaced in the shower.**

 **Enjoy!**

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#Selfie

Randy groaned, his body sprawled on his bed and his jacket discarded on the floor. It was a warm day, and Howard was busy with family business. He played Grave Puncher Z: The Apocalypse for hours now and he had blisters on his thumbs. He didn't really care; blisters were constantly on his thumbs. Nomi was sitting on the floor, with his legs crossed. He was doing one of his boring practices. Meditating.

"Nomi," he whined. "I'm bored." The humanized book gave no response to his pathetic attempt to try and relieve him of his boredom. He pouted slightly and went over to the book; he had a bright idea.

"Let's take a selfie!" he suggested. The humanized book finally opened his eyes and looked up at him in confusion.

"What's a selfie?" Nomi asked. He was, honestly, shocked. He sat there like a gaping fish with his eyes open and his mouth wide.

"You don't know what a selfie is?" It was obvious he was overreacting. Nomi rolled his eyes at him.

"What? I'm pure."

"What? So you're a virgin?" he asked, incredulously. "The eight hundred year old book is a virgin!?"

"It's hard to get a date when you're a book; much less a lover." Nomi stated, starting to get irritated by his student's incredulous laughing.

"So, what? You waiting for me to be your first?" he joked. Nomi rolled his eyes but couldn't help the pink that tinted his cheeks at the mere suggestion of doing the frick frack with his fourteen year old student.

"That's not what I meant." the Nomicon murmured under his breath in irritation.

"C'mon, I'm just joking Nomi." he said, calming down. The Nomicon sighed, completely frustrated.

"Can you just get it over with?"

"Fine," he said, bringing his phone out. He slung his arm over the Nomicon's shoulders and scooted closer to the other male so they could fit in the frame better.

"Why do you have to be so near? We can fit in the frame even without destroying the concept of personal space." Nomi stated. He grinned at him cheekily.

"Everyone does it," he explained. He smiled for the camera. He quickly took one before he finished. "Besides, these are one of those times when you don't a smell like an old man."

"Okay," Nomi snapped. He pushed the other off of him. "Off."

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 **Disclaimer: I own nothing. I don't own Randy Cunningham: 9th Grade Ninja. I don't own the concept 'selfie'. All rights reserved and I'm willing to write my sources in APA format if that'll convince you.**

 **A/N: Short and sweet... I got this idea in the shower after weeping over my lack of the idolized Eli Ayase. Review, favorite, and follow!**


	2. Might I Have This Dance?

**Might I Have This Dance**

Randy never planned on going to the dance with his mentor, or go to the dance at all since the new Grave Punchers video game came out today, but ninja business called for him to be elsewhere; that was in the Valentines Day dance.

"I cant believe we attended this dance," he grumbled in irritation while his teacher rolled his eyes. "We aren't even sure whether or not McFist will try something fishy or not."

"I'm sure he will," Nomi sighed, idly sipping his drink. "Now try and enjoy your drink, we might be here for awhile." He gave up, accepting defeat by doing as he was told.

A few moments passed with both of them just enjoying each other's company while they watched all the couples dance. He noticed Theresa heading over to him, flustered and uncertain. He raised his eyebrows in confusion, but opted to playing it cool.

"Oh, hey Randy," Theresa greeted. "You enjoying the dance?"

"Yeah, it's pretty...bruce?" He said with little enthusiasm, shrugging his shoulders a little. Theresa giggled softly before grabbing his hand in hers. He flushed red.

"Do you want to dan—" she was cut off.

"Hey Randy," the Nomicon stated. "I think we should go look for Howard in the buffet table." It was an obvious excuse, Howard didn't even want to attend, so he didn't.

"Well, okay Randy," Theresa dropped his hand and her expression pulled into a straight face. "See you around." She left to the back of the room where her friends were.

"Thanks Nomicon," he glared pointedly at the eight hundred year old book. "Real help." Nomi didn't respond, his eyes looking somewhere else and his mouth in a tight line. "Hello? Earth to Nomicon?" His only response was his teacher grabbing him by the wrist and into the dance floor.

"Come on." Nomi let go once they were in the middle of the dance floor.

"Can you please explain why we're in the middle of the dance floor? We were perfectly content next to the punch bowl."

Nomi rolled his eyes. "If you haven't noticed, with you being too busy ogling, this dance is an all you can eat buffet for the Sorceror. Now hold my hand, we need to look like we're actually a couple."

"I still don't see why I should?" Nomi groaned softly, but soon enough they found each other blushing profusely, their bodies pressed against each other, fingers were entwined and hips clumsily swaying to the music. The song that played was slow and easy to dance to, if you knew how.

"Stop stepping on my toes Randy." Nomi scowled lightly.

"Sorry," he apologized quickly, too riled up by the sudden warmth in his stomach. "Enjoying the dance so far?"

"Now I am." He almost didn't hear his teacher say it, too muffled and soft to hear.

"Sorry, didn't hear that." He teased lightly, fighting his blush down.

"I hate this dance." Nomi muttered.

"Nah, I'm actually starting to enjoy it." He laughed while the Nomicon "unintentionally" stepped on his foot.

"Shut up." came his mentor's irritated grumble.

 **Disclaimer: All rights reserved. I have no intention of stealing and making profit out of this.**

 **Author's Note: Fluff is great, don't you think? This should have come out at February 14, but I haven't updated in 2 months, so yolo. I don't give a shit.**


	3. The Desolation of the Nomicon

**Note: Heavily based on The Hobbit.**

 **The Desolation of the Nomicon**

Randy Cunningham, fourteen year old dweeb from small town at the outskirts of the Shire, dubbed Norrisville, was sure that he did not sign up for this. He quickly hid himself, breathing heavily.

"Okay, book turns into a giant honking dragon, sure," he recalled, gasping in exasperation. "I'll just have to, um, there it is!" He rummaged in his pockets for the familiar cotton fabric he retrieved from that shoob Mac Antfee. He slipped it on, the magical tendrils wrapping around his stick-like figure.

He slipped out of his hiding spot, ready for any and all blasts of fire in the face. When there was none he lowered his guard, scanning the mounds of gold scattering the place. He bit his lip, but ventured further, sliding silently on small hills of gold. He was looking for the power ball, the sole reason he was sent inside for.

"Oh, another intruder?" a calm yet empowering voice echoed in the chamber.

He swiveled around, his eyes landing on a boy about his age wearing black suit, a pendant around his neck and his auburn hair set loose to hang across his forehead. His legs were crossed and his eyes were closed, his posture was calm. He attempted to hide himself once more.

"Who are you?"

He gulped.

"I repeat, who are you?" a much more stern voice called. He bit his lip, thinking of something fast.

"Er, I am the ninja!" he proclaimed.

"A ninja you say?" the other teen questioned.

"Oh, you know, the defender of the weak, the defeater of the shoobs," Randy was sure he was spewing anything that came to mind. "Pure of heart, bravest of them all, humble beyond words." He could've sworn the other scoffed.

"Humble indeed," he could feel the smirk from here. "And do you know ninja, who I am?"

He bit the inside of his cheek then promptly answered, "N-no." It was a blatant lie, and the dragon knew it.

"Oh, has anyone taught you not to lie?" a far too calm voice asks him. He presses himself further into the pillar, wanting to just melt into it. Shifting of gold coins underfoot was heard throughout the cave, someone was approaching. "It's no use hiding, I can smell you perfectly well."

Randy cautiously reached into one of the infinite pockets, attempting to grab his sword.

"And fighting back is useless," his eyes widened, the dragon's hand was tight around his wrist, stopping him from reaching for his weapon. "Welcome to my hoard, ninja. Now, you're a part of it."

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Randy Cunningham: 9th Grade Ninja nor The Hobbit, or any I have missed but did not properly copyright it. I will not make profit out of this and is strictly for the fun of fans.**

 **Author's Note: Faster than expected, but I had no classes, so I had nothing else to do and I have writer's block for my other fic. Also please suggest if you can. I can't keep making up shit like this. Here's something that should keep you guys running around for a bit. Can you guess my age?**


	4. The Song of the Sirens Part 1

The Song of Sirens

Randy Cunningham, a mystery to the pirates and a nuisance to his fellow sirens. He was lazy, obnoxious and was incredibly arrogant. He preferred hanging out with his best friend and cause idiotic stunts which bring him to situations far beyond his control, such as right now. Where he was tested for his bravery and skill prowess in a bet for the last fish chip.

The tyrian haired boy broke the surface, glancing around and finally landing on a solitary ship about kilometer away from shore. He looked down, meeting the mischievous and expectant eyes of his best friend, Howard. "You giving up, Cunningham?"

"No." He said, determined.

He looked ahead, groaning in frustration, staring at the ship, before diving back into the water, intending to swim closer to the ship. He abruptly stopped when a splash caused by a massive object, a smaller ship—a boat, broke the surface. He hid behind a rock, making sure to not be seen. He caught sight of two silhouettes, paddling silently, causing gentle ripples. He bit his lip, thinking and weighing his choices.

He looked down at his tail, bright purple, roughly the same color of his hair swinging around in the water just waiting be used. This was a stupid bet, no denying that. But he was fourteen, he only lived once, might as well make the most of it. He shook his head, frowning before diving down, causing a splash that caught one of the men's attention. He watched as the other started swiveling around, searching around for who made the noise. Randy gulped but continued on with his plan. He swam closer, almost at the edge of the boat, leaning almost haphazardly at the edge when he opened his mouth and sang.

His voice alone would have caught the attention of any human, with or without a melody accompanying it. The sound of his song should cause the man to follow him, jump off the boat like an obedient meal. Or that's what they say in class when he actually listens.

 _Listen to my melody_

 _Oh, you seem quite sleepy_

 _Then follow me_

 _And you'll dream happily_

His eyes clouded, a clear sign that the song was starting to work. Just a little bit more, and he would show Howard.

 _Trust your heart_

 _Hope to bear_

 _Hold my hand_

 _And I'll guide you there_

The man stood, in a daze, a boot on the rim of the boat, making it tilt slightly. His companion turned to him, his brown eyes clear as day. Confusion and fear washed over him. Why didn't it work?! The other man was quick at work, jumping to his feet, his brown eyes fixed him with a glare. Metal connected against metal, a shrill sound that would send the average person running.

His voice started to turn strained when he felt something cold press onto his throat—a sword. He gulped, his mouth turning dry and his eyes screwing shut. A pirate, the most notorious criminals in the seven seas. They were ruthless, disgusting and crude, but their captains were more cunning, more greedy. Their thirst for money and fame made them the perfect victims to their song.

He stared at his recovering victim and his companion, knowing full well that a cold metal pressed against his vocal chords. A little more pressure and he would be sea foam. He bit the inside of his cheek, eyebrows furrowing and he thought of a way out of this. Smooth talk? Worth a try.

"We could, you know, talk this out. Man to fish?" He suggested, but any kind of bargaining was met with more pressure on the blade. He gulped, the man was clearly no amateur if he was confident enough to even step into siren territory. Or he could be incredibly stupid. Either that or he was terrible at smooth talking his way out.

"Gag him and tie him up." His victim, now fully recovered, nodded. He was pulled inside, dirty cloth shoved in his mouth and rough ropes around his wrists. He pouted, tugging on his bonds uselessly, it only made the bonds more uncomfortable as it burnt his skin painfully.

"I wonder how much a siren would cost in the black market," The one of the pirates mused, watching the siren's sloppy attempt at escape. He watched as the more superior pirate, he quickly got disgusted with the other one, removed a pair of ear plugs from his ears and pocketed it for later. 'Ear plugs, of course.' He thought glumly.

"Captain, what are we going to do with, you know?" He was right there, you know. The captain thought for a moment, staring at him as he did so. Randy squirmed a bit under the intense gaze of the red head. "We can't make him into sushi, no one will know. Mm, I wonder what siren sushi tastes like!"

"No, absolutely not," the captain sighed, shaking his head while rubbing his temples in frustration. "You cannot make siren sushi... That's a stupid idea."

"We'll have food for at least a week," the man glanced him, a small tugging at the corner of his lips. "Even if he looks like he's made of only skin and bones." Randy pouted and made an irritated sound. He wasn't that thin!

"Never mind that, keep paddling," the captain said, seeming to already be at his wit's end at this point.

"Aye, aye captain!" The man smirked, mocking him, but did what he was told anyway.

They arrived at the side of the ship, some parts of which was painted red and black and looming cannons shadowed above threateningly at him. The pirate stopped the boat in front of a ladder that hung at the side of the ship. He called out to some of his crewmen, a plump man who somehow reminded him of Howard and a slender man with a stiff composure.

"Woah," an incredulous look shone at the more excitable one of the pair, which was the Howard one. "Is that a siren?!" He leaned closer, almost haphazardly too close, to get a better look at him, and whether to see if he was real.

"Yes, Plop Plop. Now go," Randy's laughter came out muffled and almost completely silenced, going over the head of said crewman who was being scolded by his companion, or rather, his superior. "Get the ropes. We'll be bringing them up." Plop Plop nodded dutifully then scurried over to the ropes, grabbing some and flinging them over his shoulder.

It took them a few moments before they were lifted up and onto the deck of the ship. Many looked at him curiously, others in awe, and there was also the one he was most used to seeing, fear. And consequently that was the same look he gave them under a stupid and determined facade, looking at the blades and the guns at their hips. Without his voice and his limbs, he was completely useless. His tail flopped uselessly on dry land, and he looked pitifully at it.

"Get me some tea, and maybe a tub big enough for the siren," the captain ordered them, his voice calm and his eyes neutral. The practiced poise of someone that hid many secrets, of course he was Randy so the only thing he questioned was why the juice the man had tea on board? He only knew of tea because of the many things dumped into the sea and gets washed off at the shores. Tea was one of them. "Bring him to my quarters. A creature this dangerous needs to be closely watched."

The crew dispersed, some looking for the necessary items requested by their captain. The tub finally came and he was brought inside, his bonds finally removed and his body completely crammed inside. He looked pathetically at the gag stuffed in his mouth, frowning upon realization that the captain, as well as his two other crewmen including another one he has never seen before, were looking at him curiously. They turned away, giving him ample time to remove the revolting gag. He glanced at the sword at the captain's hip, his hand laying at the hilt innocently enough.

"We should reach port in a week," the blonde man stated, watching Randy free his tail to just hang off to the side. The captain nodded, sipping his tea casually. "Shouldn't you keep his hands tied?"

"He's a fish out of water, he'll die before getting off this boat," he explained between small sips. "Besides, if he tries, he'll find my sword inside him." Randy pursed his lips. Did he mean in the metal sword way or—? He blushed a little, realizing where his thoughts went to.

"Seven more days and we'd be legends! Well, bigger than now anyways." Plop Plop said to his apparent superior.

Seven more days in this ship. Seven more days until he'll most probably be sold for the benefit of his captors. So not bruce.

 _To be continued..._

 **Hello guys, so yeah this used to be a stand alone fic, but I thought "hey it looks good as a two shot lol, why not here?" So here you go. This story should be two to three shot in here, but will be considered a one shot because I'm too lazy to write it completely so it'll be split into three parts... If you're not okay with that, then idk with you.**

 **Also, really bad song-writing! I AM SO SORRY ABOUT THAT.**

 **Disclaimer: Randy Cunningham: 9th Grade Ninja does not belong to me! If it did, there wouldn't be any ridiculous slang.**


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